


blue

by novoaa1



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, F/F, Reader-Insert, and idk, and then she's all 'you love me', just read it aight, yall got issues, youre like. mad at her right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 12:29:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20874218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novoaa1/pseuds/novoaa1
Summary: Things are over between you and Natasha... sort of.(It's complicated.)





	blue

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhh angst. and uh. yeard
> 
> written for [blushycarol](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/blushycarol)'s writing challenge xx
> 
> prompt was just the song 'blue' by marina and the diamonds

You wish things were different—that the two of you were in love, just like you’d always dreamed from the very start, when you caught the first glance of evergreen eyes that glinted like the stars above and you knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you’d never be the same again.

That’s the hardest part, too: the fact that you don’t _want_ to hate her, to pack up your things and leave like you never knew each other—you don’t want to, but you’re not sure that there’s anything else left to do now that things have fallen apart in such grievously disastrous fashion; you’re not sure that there’s a better way to go about handling the fact that she hurt you, _badly_, in a way you don’t think any amount of ‘_Please_’s and '_I’m sorry_’s and ‘_Forgive me_’s will ever fix. 

You don’t want to be here, standing in the bedroom you used to share, looking the woman you love dead in the eyes as she asks you to stay, to forgive her for leaving, filling the space between you with an overwhelming profusion of empty promises that you’re downright terrified to believe for even the most fleeting of moments. 

And, yet, maybe the two of you were always predestined to come here (even if you’ve never believed in a God or a heaven above since the tender age of 12), to this moment, where you're looking at her and she's looking right back at you and there’s something you can’t quite name that permeates the air all around, telling you what the both of you already know: that this is it. That, after this, you’ll be done. 

“You still love me,” Natasha states, something rather rare and almost _dangerous_ glinting in jade-green eyes—very clearly, it’s not a question. 

You clench your jaw, begging the tears burning in your eyes not to fall. “Maybe I do.”

She steps closer then, decreasing the distance between the two of you from a safe foot to mere inches; you inhale sharply on more of a reflex than anything else, silently pleading with her not to do _this_, not to fight—truly, you don’t think you have the energy to fight any longer, not while the Natasha-shaped hole in your chest still burns so agonizingly around each tattered edge, not while your being physically _aches_ for her touch, her affection, her _love_, an arduous kind of longing that only ever seemed to worsen tenfold upon the inevitable realization that you couldn’t have it anymore, not now and certainly not any time in the future. 

Nonetheless, Natasha doesn’t back down—suddenly, she’s close, _too_ close, the faint coconut-y scent of her invading your nostrils in a way that makes you ache for better days, and fuck, but you can’t _be_ here right now. 

“Don’t,” she growls, tone low and strict in a way you’ve heard her use time and time again on an amusingly unrepentant Tony Stark, but not you—_never_ on you, “lie to me.”

You swallow thickly, your heart thundering rapidly in your chest, her hot breath ghosting warmly against the tip of your nose. (It kind of tickles, to be perfectly honest.) “F-Fine,” you breathe out, that small kernel of anger flaring up again deep in your gut, fueling your next words: “I do, okay? You _know_ I do. But, Natasha, that doesn’t change _anyth_—“

“Say it,” she interrupts, swift and self-assured—you swear she steps closer, too, because all of a sudden your warm breaths are mingling with one another and you’re looking straight up into that familiar pair of impossibly green eyes, her pert nose brushing against yours in a way that has your lips tingling with the remembrance of Natasha’s kiss, of how they felt pressed so gently against yours— 

“Say it,” she snarls again, successfully (thankfully) derailing you from your rather tangential train of weak-willed thought. 

“W-What?”

Her face doesn’t change, and you feel a shudder-worthy chill run down your spine. “Say you love me.”

“I—" you halt yourself then, entirely floored, each and every rational thought flying promptly from your brain until all you can think is Natasha and how gorgeous her eyes look tonight and how beautifully the shadows fall across her regal features in the dimly-lit bedroom and _Natasha_, period. “I-I… Why?”

“Say it.”

You bite anxiously at your lower lip, feeling the words building inevitably in your chest and willing them desperately (futilely) to stay put—you know it won’t work though; you know you’re fighting a losing battle, and when you finally break, it’s like water bursting through an overflowing dam:

“I love you,” you say, wishing more than anything that you didn’t mean it, but God, you do, you do, you _do_, and you’re growing more terrified by the day that there won’t ever come a day that you don't. 

Natasha’s gaze grows just the slightest bit softer at that, and heaven help you, but it’s like poetry in motion to witness—exquisite… yet at the very same time, wholly and utterly obscure. 

“I love you, too,” she husks back, low and raspy and _perfect_—and, damn it all, but you love her. More than anything. 

You’re not sure who moves first, or how exactly it happens, but you fall into a kiss then and it’s like magic, like the very first time all over again: her lips warm and insistent and _alive_ against yours, her calloused palms tracing the curve of your hips with the ease of someone who’s mapped every inch of your body night after night, kiss by kiss in the comfort of each other’s company. 

And you surrender to it; you allow yourself to go pliant and willing in her arms, melting against her instinctually and feeling her strong arms wrap solidly around you and knowing without a doubt in your mind that she’ll catch you, because this… this is love, the kind of love you know damn well you can’t live without. 

This is _home_.

🝊 🝊 🝊 🝊 🝊 🝊 🝊 🝊 🝊 🝊 🝊 🝊 🝊 🝊 🝊 🝊 🝊 🝊 🝊

**Author's Note:**

> thots? (my [tumblr](https://psyches.co.vu/))


End file.
